Full Circle
by Inks Inc
Summary: This is a sequel to "Peter's Mistake" and will only make the most sense when read in sequence to it! Neal screws up. Peter, in the aftermath of the gallery theft fiasco can't bring himself to punish him in their traditional way. He tries an FBI approved way, but how does Neal react? Contains: Spanking.


Neal stalked into the offices of the White Collar division in a foul humour. Not even bothering to flash his usual disarming smile at the passing blonde intern, he threw himself into his chair and banged his computer into action. Groaning, he saw a stack of mortgage fraud cases on his desk ready for review. _Damn it Peter, haven't I suffered enough_ he thought angrily. Peter had been keeping him in a cage of profound misery for the last two weeks.

His punishment consisted of house arrest when not working, or as Peter liked to put it, _grounded._ Plus, no field work privileges, desk duty and the world record setting opportunity for cold case review. He'd missed three gallery unveilings of once in a lifetime portrait viewings because he wasn't even allowed out to the corner store after work, even on the weekend and Peter showed absolutely no signs of relenting. _All because I showed some initiative_ Neal thought bitterly. _I bet Sarah's boss isn't giving her hell for trying to solve a case._

His idea to try and draw out The Vulture had been unorthodox, sure. It had worked though hadn't it? The ends justify the means. _Not with Peter McPerfect Burke though_. Neal let this angry thought sustain him as he furiously flipped open the top file and set to work, head slumped in one hand, the very picture of a petulant schoolboy. What Neal wouldn't admit to himself was that the reason he was so angry had nothing to do with the punishment he'd received, and everything to do with the punishment he _hadn't_ received. Upon figuring out his latest off the books plan, Peter had dragged him to the abandoned conference room where he so frequently saw fit to light a fire in his CI's backside with his belt. However Neal had been extremely confused when Peter merely used the privacy to give him the bollocking of a lifetime and a long list of tedious punishments, with no end date in sight.

Sighing in frustration, Neal threw a dirty look at the offensive pile of reports and made his way to the dismal in-house FBI coffee station, seeing as he wasn't so much as permitted to go the mere two blocks away to the fantastic artisan coffee cart he usually frequented. _This is so unfair_ he told himself comfortingly as he poured himself a cup of sub standard, moderately temperate brown water which was offensively masquerading itself as coffee.

Making his moody way back to his desk/prison, Neal was so deep in his thoughts that he narrowly avoided crashing headlong into Peter. Agent Burke, who was coming from an extremely pleasant breakfast with his wife, was in good spirits. "Morning Neal" he said in chipper tones and a warm smile. His smile quickly faded as Neal merely offered him a non committal jerk of his head and one of his new hard toned greetings, "Morning Sir" in response. An unsurprising response out of the overall option set of _Yes Sir/No Sir/Good Evening Sir_ that he'd been using in response to all Peter's attempts to engage him in conversation. Deciding to just bite the bullet and forcibly expand his young CI's vocabulary, Peter said good-naturedly "c'mon Neal, you know full well that you don't have to call me Sir."

"Actually _Sir,_ if you refer to page 56, paragraph 4, line 6 in the official FBI Handler-CI guidebook, you'll find that it is mandatory for the subordinate to refer to his or her superior with Sir/Ma'am, depending on their gender, at all times" replied Neal, without looking at Peter and with the new found waspishness Peter had come to expect from the younger man when he spoke to him. Such waspishness was not evident when he spoke to Jones or Diana, or anyone else for that matter so Peter knew without doubt that it was both created and reserved specifically for him. Sighing sadly, a wounded Peter decided to let the matter rest and made his way to his office, his good mood considerably deflated.

He couldn't understand why Neal was being so resentful towards him. Sure, he'd torn him a new one and devised a particularly tough punishment for Neal in response to his foolishness on The Vulture case, but he genuinely thought Neal would much prefer that to a lengthy session with his belt. Plus, if Peter was honest with himself he just _couldn't_ bring himself to chastise Neal in that manner again or force Neal to undergo such discipline, after the fiasco he'd created with the gallery heist.

A fiasco that had resulted in him whipping Neal hard for something he didn't do, and utterly betraying the trust Neal put in him in the process. Peter groaned as the memory of that incident and the raw guilt that still attached to it came flooding back, with stark clarity.

He closed his eyes against the truth that even though Neal had forgiven him for punishing him wrongly and not believing him when he'd pleaded with him to, Peter hadn't and more to point couldn't forgive himself. He'd resolved to himself that very night that he would never again use his unique brand of discipline on Neal again, and would revert to more FBI approved options for punishment methods. Weeks had passed and Peter had breathed a sigh of relief when Neal had been as well behaved as Neal could be.

When his stunt on The Vulture case had come to light, Peter had been panic stricken. He was so used to dealing with Neal's transgressions with a private _conversation_ either in the conference room that he'd essentially commandeered for that very reason, or his own home, that he'd no idea how to punish Neal with the same degree of effectiveness with a more _hands off_ approach.

He'd come up with the punishment he'd given Neal after careful thought, and based on a similar punishment he himself had received from an extremely irate Agent Hughes, for his own foolhardiness back in his rookie days. Letting out a frustrated breath, he looked out of his window into the bullpen and felt the familiar stab of hurt when he saw Jones, Diana and Neal all laughing happily about some story or other of Neal's. _Yup, it's just me_ Peter told himself sadly.

The day progressed with excerpts of the now routine icy politeness, from the younger to the older man. Peter, as he had done for the last two weeks, tried his best to draw Neal in conversation, ask his opinion on cases, the whole nine yards, but the young CI refused to budge. Peter experienced increasing frustration as he surveyed Neal. He was doing absolutely nothing that Peter could legitimately haul him over the coals for. He was remarkably polite, better behaved in the office than he'd ever been before and Peter was frankly hating every minute of it. As the clock struck seven, Peter gathered his belongings and made his way out of his office, looking forward to a relaxing night with El and Satchmo. The bull pen was empty, except for Neal, whose tousled black hair fell into his eyes as he sat bent over a report. Taking a deep breath, Peter approached his desk and said gently "hey, c'mon its past finishing time, good work today, you can head home Neal".

"I'm fine thank you Sir, you have a good evening" came the stiff reply, as Peter had suspected it would.

Feeling his anger and annoyance of the last two weeks that had accompanied his hurt, starting to rise Peter fixed Neal with a stern glare. "It's late Neal, you've done enough for today, and it's time to go home now. Please finish up what you're working on and head out."

Neal, in response rudely slammed the file he had open shut and obediently stood, with a sarcastic "Yes Sir."

Peter ground his teeth in irritation, but kept his cool. "C'mon I'll give you a ride."

"No thank you Sir, I can make my own way home. I assure you I won't make any detours and I shall continue to adhere to my hectic social schedule of cable TV and meals for one, as per your instructions."

With that, Neal turned and walked stiffly out of the White Collar offices without a backwards glance at his handler. Peter, for his part, sunk into a nearby chair and put his head in his hands in frustration. It was only two weeks into Neal's punishment, and although he had told Neal it was for an indefinite duration, he had planned on it being a month. _Only half way there_ he groaned aloud, to the quiet and abandoned offices.

He refused to give into the extreme temptation of letting Neal off with half of his sentence. Seeing as this was the method he had been resigned to using in the future, he needed to see it through and Neal needed to know the new nature of consequences he could expect when he pulled his many ill advised stunts. Although he had committed to never corporally punishing Neal again, Peter very much missed the quick nature of the corrective measure. Ten minutes alone with Neal and one sore backside later, any transgressions on Neal's part were forgotten and the younger man bounced back to his cheeky ways a mere hour or so later. Standing wearily, Peter made his way out of the FBI building and his way home.

Collapsing happily onto his couch, he welcomed the embrace of El gladly, and the beer she offered even more gladly. Settling down on the couch together the Burkes set about watching one of El's favourite films. Trying to concentrate on the prancing ice skaters before him, Peter couldn't help but let his mind wander to the maddening situation, which showed no sign of relenting, between himself and the CI he subconsciously regarded as an adoptive son of sorts. Sensing her husbands' mental absence, El switched off the set and turned to Peter expectantly. Jolted out of his reverie, Peter merely stared at his wife absently. "Something wrong hon?" he asked, as a matter of course.

"What has Neal done now" his wife asked knowingly.

"I'd rather not get into El; I've had just about as much Neal Caffrey as I can deal with today."

"Peter, we both know I'm not going to leave it. You're upset. If you're upset, that means he's probably upset. Please tell me what's going on." Peter, knowing his wife's obstinate streak groaned in defeat gave in and set about telling her the whole story, from Neal's extravagant and dangerous idea of drawing The Vulture out, to the subsequent punishment he'd imposed and Neal's extremely adverse reaction to it.

"He _hates_ me El and there's nothing I can do about it, I can't let him get off scot free." Peter finished miserably, staring at the floor, not wanting to meet the gaze of his wife. He didn't want her to see the hurt he knew would be in his eyes.

Sighing loudly in exasperation El observed her husband. He was so knowledgeable in some ways, but in others, he was painfully lacking. "Peter" she began gently, "don't you know what this is about?"

Looking up, Peter answered her honestly, "yes, he's upset with me for grounding him at home and putting him on desk duty at work. It's not my fault he doesn't know that actions have consequences" he finished somewhat defensively, under his wife's penetrating stare.

Shaking her head slightly, El placed a gentle hand on her husband's. "Peter, sweetie, the reason Neal is acting like he is, is because….. well, it's because you didn't strap his backside."

Laughing slightly at the gaping expression of her husband, she continued, "you've always dealt with Neal in that way, he associates it with you going that extra mile in looking out for him. You only deal with him in that way, no one else. As much as he hates it, it makes him feel cared for. Special. Sticking him on desk duty and grounding him is going to make him feel that you don't care enough about him anymore to go that extra mile, and that he's just another person under your command."

Peter positively spluttered, "but…but El the reason I punished him this way is because I _do_ care for him."

"No Peter, the reason you punished him this way is because even though Neal has completely forgiven you for strapping him unjustly, you haven't forgiven yourself, and Neal is the one suffering for it." Elizabeth's voice had taken on the sharp tone that it always did when Peter had done something that may have hurt Neal. He was like a surrogate son to her also.

"You need to get over your own pride Peter Burke. Yes you made a mistake with that gallery heist, yes it was a bad mistake, but you need to swallow it now and be the role model that kid needs you to be, and stop hiding behind some ridiculous and drawn out punishment, rather than facing the music and taking Neal in hand the way you know full well he needs." Peter slumped back into the sofa in confusion. He had never dreamed that Neal was acting the way he was because Peter had refused to tan his backside. Groaning, he realised he had never given Neal an explanation as to why he switched disciplinary methods. Seeing that he was coming to the right conclusions on his own, El smiled and gave Peter an affectionate peck on the cheek and headed up to bed, leaving him to his thoughts.

After a restless sleep, Peter strode into the office and saw the cause of his insomnia sitting obediently at his desk working hard. Taking a deep breath, Peter made his way over to bid Neal good morning. He had made a decision on the way here. A decision that would be confirmed or cast aside based on Neal's response to his friendly greeting. Placing the coffee he'd brought from the coffee cart he knew the young man sorely missed on the CI's desk, Peter offered Neal a friendly "morning, what're you working on today then?"

Neal, carefully ignoring the coffee placed in his direct line of sight and not looking up from his computer monitor, replied icily "good morning Sir. I'm working on the Fairchild mortgage fraud case, as requested, and it's truly riveting." Peter grimaced, the decision being made that he had hoped against hope wouldn't be, but knew in his gut would be. Getting into the young CI's space he spoke quietly so that only Neal could hear, "conference room E, right now" before striding off in the direction of his office.

Neal looked after him in mild bewilderment. Assuming that Peter intended to ream him again, he started the journey to the fifth floor conference room in weary indifference. Pushing open the heavy door, to the windowless and sound proofed room Neal flicked on the lights. Drawing a chair out from the set attaching to the large oak desk in the centre of the room, he sat down petulantly and waited for Peter to come in and yell at him. Thinking snidely to himself _, what's he going to chew me out for, being too polite?_

He didn't have too long to dwell on this thought, as the door soon opened and Peter strode in purposefully. Seeing Neal slumped in the seat he snapped, "get up, front and centre, now". Standing at the other side of the desk, Peter watched as Neal obediently stood and walked towards the desk and stood on the other side, facing Peter, eyes on the floor.

"Eyes up, right now please."

Dragging his eyes up with that maddening petulance, Neal fixed Peter with a politely indifferent stare.

Taking a deep breath, Peter delivered the speech he had so nervously rehearsed.

"Neal, I owe you an apology. I was wrong to punish you in the manner I have been. I'll be fully honest with you and tell you that the reason I grounded you and put you on desk duty was because I couldn't face whipping you again after I made such a terrible mistake the last time. I was afraid of hurting you again. Basically, I let my own feelings about you supersede what was actually best for you, and for that I'm truly sorry."

"I can understand why you've been so distant with me Neal. I gave you no explanation as to why I was doing what I did. I thought telling you would make things worse. However, you have been insufferable for the last two weeks. Absolutely insufferable and you know it, and you wanted me to know it. Well, I'm putting an end to this right now. I am giving you an option. You have already served two weeks of your punishment. I had intended to relieve you of it after one month. However, you may choose to accept a tanned backside in lieu of those two weeks. You are also completely free to choose to continue on with your punishment for the next fourteen days. It is completely your choice. It is also your choice Neal, to decide how you wish your future transgressions to be dealt with. You only get this one opportunity to decide however, so please choose wisely."

Peter, slightly out of breath fell silent and anxiously watched the facial expressions of his young charge as he digested what he just said. Neal, for his part suddenly felt extremely guilty. He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He'd been a _pig_ to Peter for the last two weeks, and he knew it. He'd wanted to hurt him. He thought Peter didn't care about him anymore, and he wanted Peter to know that he could get along just fine without his _caring._ Realising that Peter had done what he did because he cared _so much_ made Neal's insides positively writhe with regret.

Steadying himself, Neal mustered up his courage and looked Peter directly in the eye. "I'm so sorry" he whispered sadly. "I wanted to hurt you. I thought you couldn't be….that you couldn't be bothered with me anymore, and I wanted to hurt you. I'm really…damn it, I'm really sorry Peter." Dropping his head in shame, Neal stood miserably observing the floor. Crossing the distance between them in four strides, Peter reached out and pulled Neal into a tight hug, which Neal returned with equal force. "It's ok buddy" Peter told the upset young man gently. "We've both made mistakes here, it's ok."

Releasing his young charge, Peter took a breath. "I'm sorry Neal, but I need your decision here kiddo."

Neal looked up apprehensively, but said immediately "I don't want to serve out my two weeks Peter, I think you should…that you should strap me as usual, for everyone's sake." Feeling his face flush, Neal's eyes found the carpet again. Peter reached out and gently tipped a finger under his chin, forcing him to look up. "Ok Neal, for what it's worth I'm proud of you and you've made the right decision. Now, what about in the future, do you want to continue with that stubborn backside of yours feeling a little heat or do you want to ride a desk?"

Neal grinned, "a little heat never killed anyone I guess" he replied, to Peter's staggering relief.

"Good man. Ok then, let's get this over with so I can get the old Neal Caffrey back" the older man said, gesturing to the desk.

Sighing, Neal took off his expensive suit jacket and draped it over his vacated seat, relieved that things were back to normal but dreading the fire he knew was going to rage war against his backside in the next couple of minutes. Bending over the desk, he dropped his head in his arms and waited for Peter to assume his position behind him. _I seriously deserve this_ , he reminded himself firmly.

Peter quickly slipped his heavy leather belt out from his pants loops, and folded it over. Walking over to Neal, he placed a comforting hand on the small of his back and without delay, drew the belt back in a high arc, bringing it down with a resounding force on the backside of the contrite man. Hearing Neal's quiet hiss, Peter stiffened his resolve and silently castigated himself for allowing it to get this far. Setting about covering every single inch of the upturned bottom with firm, deliberate strokes, Peter ensured that no area survived unscathed.

Increasing the pressure on Neal's back somewhat so his bottom was raised higher, Peter paid particular attention to the tender sit spots, drawing vigorous squirming from the young CI. Delivering yet another round of strokes, Peter went over the entire bottom once more. Neal was positively howling at this stage, but made no attempt to squirm under Peter's grasp anymore. Drawing the punishment to an end, Peter planted two firm swats on each cheek and released his hold on his young charge, stood back and threaded his belt back into his waistline.

Stepping forward once again, he leant down beside his still bent over CI and rubbed comforting circles over his back and spoke gentle words of comfort in his ear. Eventually, Neal stood and pushed him damp hair out from his tear stained eyes. Peter immediately opened his arms, and the young man all but hurled himself into them, resting his hot head on the older man's shoulder. Holding Neal tightly for a few moments, Peter thanked his lucky stars that he had married Elizabeth. She knew this kid inside and out. Eventually, Neal pulled away and fixed Peter with his patented pouty grin, "are you sure you bowed out of baseball due to injury Peter? You have a pretty weak swing."

Snorting, Peter spun the young man around and landed a firm swat on his heat radiating backside. "Watch it you, or I'll show you my swing over my knee." Neal yelped and held his hands up in dramatic surrender.

"So, what now?" he asked suddenly feeling awkward.

"What do you mean buddy?" said Peter anxiously seeing the awkwardness on Neal's face.

"Well, do I have to…I mean, can I come out on field work with you again now?" asked Neal, shifting from foot to foot.

Ruffling the younger mans hair, and earning himself a glare in the process, Peter chuckled "course you can. We're actually going to a stake out in about an hour; El's made two rounds of devilled ham sandwiches."

"Oh, actually no that's ok, I've recently developed a deep seated love for mortgage fraud" Neal said hastily.

Laughing, Peter draped an arm around the newly reborn Neal and propelled him out of the conference room. "C'mon, let's go get some coffee from that fancy place you love so much first, I know you've been sticking needles in a Burke the Jerk voodoo doll for the past two weeks in a coffee deprived rage."

Neal snorted but allowed himself to be guided out of the FBI buildings.

"My god! Is this what _fresh air_ feels like Peter?"

"Yes yes, I'm the meanest boss in the world" said Peter rolling his eyes. Go on you order, I'll catch you up, I just need to make a call."

Stifling a laugh at the excitement on Neal's face as he explained his complicated order to the cart owner, Peter dialled a number.

" _Hey El? Hon, did I ever tell you that you're the best thing that ever happened to me?"_


End file.
